Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest
Chapter 143 - 15: Cold Harbor

Chapter 143: Chapter 15: Cold Harbor

Cold Harbor.

It lies near the Northern Land, a nonfreezing port with natural advantages.

Populous and dense, facing the North Ice Ocean.

The cold current from Igo Land sweeps in, making the city’s winter unbearable, with extremely low temperatures, so cold it discourages conversation.

Especially the whistling cold wind, residents of the port believe that thieves in Cold Harbor dare not commit crimes easily, as the cold wind would chop off the fingers of the thief.

But that’s just a rumor.

Those fellows are thriving in this port city.

Even the harsh winter can’t dampen human pursuit of wealth and trade, countless ships moor here in winter. Docks stand in rows, a continuous stream of goods transported here, sustaining tens of thousands of professionals of all classes.

Here, the air is thick with a strange salty stench mixed with fishiness, the sea, and dung; the streets of the port are narrow and winding, the houses on either side low and dilapidated; the magnificent domed cathedral is a sight to behold, with five towering towers like the North Ice Watchers; and there are an astounding number of taverns and inns, some in the bustling market, some hidden in the narrow alleyways.

Teeming with a diverse crowd, the distinguished Noble Knights, skilled craftsmen, North Ice people who have traveled far, businessmen mired in their daily grind, the lower-class laborers, and even the rats in the sewers.

Some people’s identities are obvious and unmasked.

But some lurk in the shadows, unwilling to reveal themselves.

With diverse origins and a mix of all sorts, the bustling and noisy crowds paint a distinctive Cold Harbor scene.

...

After arriving in Cold Harbor, Morry, having unloaded the last batch of salt, hurriedly had the crew set sail out to sea.

The last batch of salt was about ten thousand catties, too much for an ordinary town to consume.

He had taken a full hundred thousand catties of salt from Sige Town, thinking that like maltose, this essential good would quickly dissolve in the market.

But he was somewhat optimistic.

The salt trade from Sige Town had affected the Bro River upstream and downstream, nearly saturating the market.

He had no choice but to distribute the salt to even more distant places.

This year, a large amount of salt had flooded the market, making selling it more difficult, with prices in some areas even fluctuating, and the nobles behind other salt-producing areas must have already realized that a strong and savage force was stirring the market in the shadows.

By next spring at the latest, the nobles who were slow to catch on would find Sige Town.

Either negotiations or war.

In some places, salt production was so high that it wouldn’t sell without a price drop.

Sige Town’s salt production had to be suppressed, or in the long run, everyone would end up making no money.

Morry wasn’t particularly worried about the safety of the young lord.

A low-ranking noble’s land finding a Salt Mine. Either they get pushed out of the game, or they become one of the controllers.

The former is easy to understand: shallow background, weak foundation, unwilling to seek cooperation, naturally, they have to be pushed out.

The latter only needs to share the profits, form alliances, and they can protect the Salt Mine from being taken away.

These were Roman’s worries.

Morry didn’t believe that the ambitious lord would stumble on this matter.

Moreover, although the Riptide trademark was tottering, if it fell, it could still be lethal.

His siblings numbered in the dozens, some married to nobles or a Conquest Knight, some were nobles and Conquest Knights themselves, offspring from a large family, they should not lack collaborators.

To clear inventory quickly, Morry chose to lower the price.

For other merchants, this approach would have meant earning much less, even wasting their effort.

But his advantage was that he had acquired the salt at a very low price, Roman gave him a huge discount, selling to him at half price, so even with the price drop, he could still make a handsome profit.

Even so, he was delayed quite a bit.

He didn’t even have time to purchase slaves.

If one wished to buy slaves on a large scale, it was best to contact a Slave Trader and make the transaction in the wild.

That way, there’s no markup, no taxes.

Otherwise, the price for a barely healthy slave is around one silver coin—the standard price for slaves comes from the slave market.

Just like you can’t pay wholesale prices for your beer at a tavern.

Morry reluctantly bought and sold wine to Roman at the tavern.

The Lord was desperate for slaves, and Morry couldn’t contact the wild slave traders in the short term, so he had to buy ready-made ones.

He was financially sound at the moment, so he didn’t have any financial difficulties.

Most of the residents of Cold Harbor were North Ice people, and the majority of them came from Igo Land, which was infamous for producing pirates.

But through the layers of relationships passed down, North Ice people were not necessarily pirates.

They were also born sailors, adventurers, and shrewd businessmen, often acting as a buffer between the sea and the land.

Pirates sold their loot to them, while land-dwellers traded goods with them.

Most of the slave markets in Cold Harbor were run by North Ice people as well.

On the way to the slave market, Morry contemplated how many slaves he would purchase, resigning himself to the fact that he might not make a profit, considering it an investment in the future shelter.

But when he saw four or five figures cloaked in capes on the narrow streets of Cold Harbor.

Morry’s face drained of color, and he turned and fled.

How did he come across this plague?

His heart pounded wildly as his steps became more and more disordered.

Morry returned to the port and did not mention buying slaves at all, immediately ordering all the sailors to set sail.

But when he returned to his cabin, before he even had time to catch his breath, his heart nearly leapt to his throat.

There was an additional figure cloaked in a cape within the empty cabin.

Morry struggled to twist a smile onto his face, "Madam, may I ask if there is something you need?"

"Don’t panic, it’s me." Shasta lifted her hood, revealing tired, crimson eyes and her delicate face, which seemed like a pearl covered in dust.

Morry wanted to cry. It’s because I know it’s you that I’m panicking.

He asked, "How did you escape from the encirclement in the Northern Land?"

That encirclement lasted almost half a year, and the main force of the Church Court couldn’t cross the Black Iron Kingdom, so they had to dispatch small squadrons of Demon Hunting Knights again and again, clashing with the legendary Frost Tribe until their brains spilled.

It was said that a full three hundred Demon Hunting Knights perished, enough to level the territory of any Earl. How did you survive?

"My sisters came to my aid..." Shasta said wearily, sitting on a cargo box to rest, like a seagull that had flown for days and finally found a place to land.

She was weak, having been on the run for months, fleeing in disarray until she finally escaped the Northern Land like a dog that had lost its home.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Morry felt the ship sway slightly.

He turned his head to look and saw a cloaked figure of enormous stature board the ship.

He was looking up as the person bent forward to enter the cabin, lifting their hood.

Morry had thought it was a Guardian Witch’s samurai, but to his surprise, it was another Witch.

Her skin was as pale as marble, with ice blue eyes, and she was unnaturally tall—over two meters—and her beauty was imposing. The only flaw was the long, ferocious scar on her right face, marring her intense yet delicate features.

Morry was green with dread.

He recalled the tales told by merchants from the North—about the Nightmare Witch having an embodiment of winter by her side, who alone had killed a hundred Demon Hunting Knights.

"Shasta, is this the ship we’ll be taking?" Morry overheard the towering white-haired Witch speak in the language of humans, albeit with a rough accent.

Before Shasta could reply, he immediately protested, "No, no, no, I have pressing matters to attend to, I can’t take you with me!"

Then, Morry watched as three Witches, wrapped in capes, ignored his words and filed into the cabin, each looking relieved as if they had found shelter from the storm.

The sailors and crew were at a loss, unsure whether to stop them or not.

"Take the ship, it’s yours, you can go wherever you want." Morry said indignantly, turning to leave.

He had sworn an oath, never to let Witches aboard.

These curse-bringers would only bring greater calamities.

Lord Roman was waiting for him to deliver slaves. It had been over forty days now; if he didn’t fulfill the covenant, how could he move into the safe house in the future?

Was he expected to wander the world with these Witches? To make the four seas his home?

That wasn’t funny at all!

Shasta leaned against the bulkhead, her black hair cascading to the side of her face.

She was weak, looking up at the ceiling of the cabin and speaking out, "Son of Selin, deliver us to Selin. You must honor the covenant, or you shall be ostracized from the Pereya family!"